


Rory's Anniversary

by BenvolioLives



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 03:04:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BenvolioLives/pseuds/BenvolioLives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Partner to Amy's Anniversary, but no smut in this one. Rory goes to see a doctor to cope with the problems he's having.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rory's Anniversary

“It’s like this doctor,” Rory began, shifting uncomfortably in the oversized leather chair. “My wife and I, well, we’ve been married for nearly a year now, and there are already, well, cracks appearing in our lives.” He winced unconsciously at the word, which still brought a cold, empty feeling to the pit of his stomach ever time he heard it. Trying to relieve the tension he felt in the momentary silence that followed, Rory tried a joke.

“We only got a bible as a wedding gift. Said we’d been living in sin too long already.” The lack of sound was deafening, and this did little to alleviate Rory’s discomfort. Desperate to escape the clamouring of the silence that filled the room, he fled in his mind back through the islands of memory that had not been engulfed by the doubt and turmoil that gripped him, driving him here to speak to a professional.

He had waited anxiously on the pavement that day, his head wracked with indecision. It was what she wanted, wasn’t it? His hand dropped to his pocket, his fingers closing on the soft touch of the hard case padded in velvet nestling against his leg, reassuring him by its promise of solidity, and solidifying his resolve. He wanted this, and his head told him that she did too, and that this was the right time. He had prepared enough, he told himself, and to back out now would mean that he was a coward. And by God, he thought, his fist balling up so tightly that his fingernails dug deep into his palm, he would not let her down like that coward, that damn Doctor!

“Mr Pond!” the doctor warned, anxiously, snapping Rory out of his reverie. “Control yourself!” He gestured impatiently towards Rory. Looking down, he was only half surprised to see his hand clenched, the same way it had been in his memory. Deliberately, he flexed it open, and placed it reassuringly over the armrest’s curved end, fixing his gaze resolutely on an indistinguishable point on the wall opposite him, ignoring the cold leather on the red welt left by his nails, and focussed on the flames he felt inside him, forcing them into submission. They slunk away, back into the eternally burning place inside him where the flames of hatred always smouldered.

“Could you repeat the question, doctor?” Rory asked in a careful, measured tone that did not betray the emotions running high through his system.

“I merely wondered, Mr Pond, if you could explain the exact circumstances of your engagement to your wife…” checking his notes, the doctor concluded, “Amelia? Since it seems to be a source of such discomfort for you, I consider it a possible origin of your current obstacles to marital satisfaction. I noted the fact that you were twisting the ring around your finger during your, ahhh…” Tactfully, the doctor paused, searching for the words that would encourage his patient to speech. The pause caused Rory to look up; drawing his attention to the soft, seemingly inconsequential word that dropped from the doctor’s lips seemed to ring deafeningly through the silence in Rory’s ears. “Episode.” The significance of the single word to the doctor’s eventual diagnosis was not lost on Rory.

Looking down at the ring, he remembered how beautiful Amy had looked, the plain gold band shining against her pale skin as he had slid it onto her finger, gently supporting her trembling wrist with the other hand. He’d looked up at her, her long red hair that hung down in front of her glowing as the sun behind her shone through it, and cast a dancing golden light around her head, and at that moment his heart had been in his mouth so proud was he of how beautiful she was, and speaking those words he had thought about time and time again over his time with her. His eyes had pricked with tears as he saw the glistening at the corners of her eyes, he from joy but she…

The ring had hung around her neck for months before she wore it again, around a chain instead of her finger, and he had not once questioned her.

Sitting in the doctor’s uncomfortable chair, he found his eyes again begin to fill with hot, salty tears for his happiest memories were now as nothing, so pervasive was the doubt that he felt. Yes, doubt. He realised now it was not anger at the Doctor that had driven him here, or that fuelled the flames raging inside him, but doubt. A terrible, sickening self doubt that was tinged with loathing for himself, for all his happiest moments had been overshadowed by the conviction that he was not good enough for her, second best to the maddening transcendence of her elusive ‘raggedy Doctor’. All his memories were now stained by doubt, no longer of Amy and her feelings for his rival, but of himself, and his sanity in attempting to match himself against the Doctor.

“There there, Mr Pond,” consoled the doctor awkwardly, not used to seeing a grown man break down so completely in his consulting room. “I can see that you’ve had a traumatic experience. You feel violated and upset. We must do something. I’ll have the nurse bring in a nice, hot drink for you, and then we can discuss how to restore your lost confidence. Your commentary of your perceptions during your experience has been most enlightening, and I believe I can suggest a course of action that may improve your situation.”

Hands clasped numbly around the Styrofoam cup containing an untouched volume of hot, sickly coffee, Rory Williams listened wordlessly to the doctor’s suggestions, nodding earnestly at suggestions of negotiating control and asserting dominance, as he began to see a plan emerging from the doctor’s speech. His brain, long unused to a need for independently forming plans (such was the life he led with Amy and the Doctor in charge), grasped onto the lifeline that the doctor had presented. An anniversary and evening of just him and Amy, a chance to prove himself, his own abilities, to both of them. He and the doctor sat and spoke about courses and therapies, stimulants and medicines, but his mind raced over the same track; to prove himself, he had to give Amy the best anniversary that was possible. When he left the session, his hand still gripping the cup subconsciously, he was a new man, positive that his love for Amy could pull him through his self-doubt.

When the day came, Rory spent the whole day running rings around Amy, letting her relax, and attentive to every need before she even knew she had it. He picked out, for their relaxing evening in, a remake of Amy’s favourite action film by the crystal eyeball race that he disliked so much. It combined the two things that she loved, aliens and action. He was disappointed, therefore, that the whole way through the film she was staring listlessly off into space, and he became worried when she seemed to find it dull. But he put that down to the translation, which he assumed was done by someone with very little grasp of English.

However, it did give him a chance to implement the next stage of his plan, a chance which he grabbed with both hands. In giving Amy a good night’s rest, something he knew she rarely got these days what with all the adventuring and excitement, he planned to give her a full day and night of relaxation. Throwing the Doctor a warning look not to disturb her, he led her to their room.

Rory collapsed on the bed, exhausted after spending the whole day fixing things so that Amy wouldn’t need to lift a finger, and waited for Amy to finish in the bathroom. Probably brushing her hair, he thought, smiling. When he heard the buckle of her belt hit the floor, however, he was even happier. Just like her, he thought, to take a long, relaxing bath before bed on their anniversary. Today he’d outdone himself and his expectations, and as he fell quickly to sleep, he brought the portrait of his wife, the one that he had so lovingly produced after weeks of work, to his lips, before drifting off, smiling.

He awoke with the covers neatly placed over him, and smiled at his wife’s thoughtfulness. It was still dark, and he rolled to face her expecting to see her gentle curves silhouetted against the door’s light as she lay in bed, only to be met with the impression that she had left on the blanket, and the damp patch where her head had been. Rolling over, Rory began to cry.


End file.
